Idyll
by Scribe191
Summary: A trek through loneliness. A journey through emptiness. A voyage across a desert of distress. But hope is the last thing to die in a man. And this man, a Pilot of his own destiny, has come a long way in his quest to find the ultimate paradise - Idyll.
1. Chapter 1

_A Minecraft Fan-fiction;_

**Idyll **

_By Scribe191_

_The desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose._

- Isaiah 35:1

Sol burns in the cloudless sky above, a furious Mistress of blue fire and blinding light. Her terrible aura bears down hard upon the desert below, leaving it parched and thirsting for water. The hardy cactus struggles to survive, withering beneath the blistering burden the Mistress has placed upon it. Even the air is afraid, shimmering in terror of her blazing rage. Except for the frightened whisper of the wind, this tableau of dry, searing anger broods in silence.

Breaking that quiet is a hissing sound, growing louder and louder with each passing second. Without warning, a skiff breaks free of a dune and hurtles through the air, its sail flapping. It lands with a jarring thud and its sail tighten once more to catch the wind, bearing it a step closer towards its destination. The wind seeks to push it off course and dash it upon the craggy rocks that dot the landscape. Only the pilot's skill prevents him from meeting that gristly fate.

Another gust of wind threatens to push the skiff off track and the pilot tugs hard at the rope that controls the sail's direction, correcting its course. He wears thick gloves, better to protect him from burns, caused both by the Sun and the rope. A cloak is draped across his body, covering the whole of his torso. Baggy sleeves and trousers cover his limbs, trapping his perspiration in and mitigating his body's loss of water. A hood shelters his head, casting his face into shadows. His eyes constantly scan the horizon, looking out for any potential threats.

He tugs the rope and the skiff turns to the left, skirting a light grey rock. He pays no heed to it. His mind is elsewhere and his eyes fixed ahead. Hence, he does not notice when the rock twitches and unfurls, revealing six long hairy legs that terminates into deadly claws, extending out from the center of a long, slender abdomen.

The desert spider rolls to its side and stands, raised four meters above the sizzling sand. Its shorter pair of forelegs twitch, eager to embrace potential prey. Its venomous fangs flex, ready to inject their lethal payload. Its milky eyes stare hungrily at the skiff. Its maw opens, revealing rows of wicked teeth dripping with saliva. It twitches, and a special gland opens, releasing pheromones into the wind, sending a chemical signal to the rest of its pack.

The hunt has begun.

**[A/N: Here it is guys - the first chapter of a brand new series! I hope you guys enjoyed it. **

**If you guys would like to make any comments, by all means do so in the review section. If it's something personal, feel free to PM me.**

**Take Care!**

**_- _Scribe191]**


	2. Chapter 2

_A Minecraft Fan-fiction;_

**Idyll**

_By Scribe191_

_The desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose._

- Isaiah 35:1

Sol is setting now, sleepy as she drifts off into the outstretched arms of her father, Terra. In that moment, her beautiful radiance is released. From a flaming blue, she has cooled to a tender orange, staining the sky with streaks of luscious peach pink running into a light violet. Closer and closer the pair become, until eagerly Mistress Sol reaches the warm embrace of Father Terra. In that one instance, a cosmic reunion is captured: A daughter, nuzzling into the one that she lovingly calls "Daddy". A father, cuddling the one he holds dear to his heart.

As Sol is borne away in the arms of the Earth, the pilot watches. His face is expressionless, but his features are hard. His eyes are as cold as ice and sting with tears. It was not so long ago that he himself was once a caring father, laughing with his beloved, carrying their daughter upon his strong shoulders.

But he had failed in his duty as a protector. The both are gone now. His life is now empty as vacuum, devoid of the alien thing called "love".

He turns away from that touching scene, wrapping his cloak around him to stay the cold. Already the chilly stars had turned away from serenading Mistress Sol, fixing their wintry gaze upon him. He heads back to the skiff, the only hospitable place in this forsaken desert.

Unfortunately, the spiders have already beaten him there. He reacts quickly, diving behind the cover of a nearby sand dune, drawing his sword as he does so. To his dismay, he counts and there are three of the foul arachnids swarming over his skiff. Two he could deal with, but not three. They would be over him in an instant, their fangs sinking painfully into his succulent flesh and he would feel no more.

That is not the plan, fortunately. The pilot has more than a sword up his sleeve. He flips open the small satchel at his side and gingerly draws out a peculiar item. It is black sprinkled with grey, its cracks revealing a smoldering gold inside. It is a fire charge, and he has five of the little devils with him.

He takes a deep breath, knowing he is about to enter into battle. He utters a short prayer to the Earth, imploring Father Terra to keep him safe. He then pulls back his arm, and lobs the small incendiary into the eyes of the nearest spider.

It was as if Hell itself had been unleashed. The spider screams, a horrible grating sound not unlike claws gouging steel. Its forelegs scrabble at its face, trying hopelessly to put out the fire. But in its desperate attempt, the fire instead spreads. The waxy carapace that encases its fragile body has betrayed it. The fire has caught on, blazing a path of pain across the spider as its body burns like a torch, caught in an inferno that seems to have come from the demonic realm itself. The foul denizen of the desert screams its last breath before collapsing onto the sands, where its corpse smolders out.

The pilot leaps out from his cover, waving his sword and yelling as loud as he can. The remaining two spiders back away, afraid of the prey that had turned the tables on them. It was not worth the risk, they think. Better to run away cowardly, than to not run away at all.

The pair turns to run and the pilot begins to sigh in relief. Then his sigh sticks to his throat as another spider, even bigger than the ones before him, rolls down a sand dune and unfurls before his eyes. Seated a top its back sits a rider, another pilot much like him, but he is of the Risen.

The Undead Archer's rattling laughter echoes across the desert plains, sending shivers up the pilot's spine and a chill that cuts deep into his soul. An unearthly voice sounds. It is an unholy speech, a black, course tongue that worms into his mind and eats at his hope.

The spiders however are heartened by the perverted words, being as twisted and evil as their skeletal master. They turn to laugh at him, a grating sound as rough as gritty sand.

The Archer leaps into the air, landing with barely a sound. Its grotesque body, dried and stuck fast to bleached bone, sickens the pilot. An unnatural emerald fire fills its skull, burning bright with fury, even as it grins in undeath. It walks slowly, deliberately, every move designed to brand fear into the pilot's heart.

But he will not be shaken so soon. The pilot readies. His muscles tense, his body poised to spring. His fist tightens around his blade. Sweat trickles slowly down his face. His feet shift into position and he takes up his stance, ready to flow into attacking or defending. His vision narrows, focusing upon that frightening foe.

Calmly, he breathes in. Dry desert air fills his lungs before being slowly expelled out. In that instant, his sword becomes the very extension of his body: utterly deadly. He is the very embodiment of the calm before the storm. He is an artist of battle and the sword his brush.

The desiccated Archer stops a hundred meters short of its opponent. It draws its bow, a long-range weapon of precise destruction. It nocks a barbed arrow from its quiver and sets its sights on the brave man before it.

All is silent, only punctuated by the occasion sound of rasping spider breath. A spark passes invisibly between them. A knowing smile touches the lips of the pair.

The time to strike is now.

**[A/N: I thought that the first chapter was a bit short, so I posted the second one as well. Enjoy!**

**_- _Scribe191****]**


	3. Chapter 3

_A Minecraft Fan-fiction;_

**Idyll**

_By Scribe191_

_The desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose._

- Isaiah 35:1

Luna shines in the blackness above, a regal Lady as cold as the North Wind itself. Half-cloaked in a shroud of darkness, her curved scythe gleams wickedly against the inky night. Her menacing light falls upon the Earth and all that breathes, jealously sapping them of life-giving heat, gifted by her twin, Sol. Even the rocks shiver, frost creeping across their gray bodies. The icy comet is her chariot, bearing her across a shadowy sea sprinkled with stars.

_Whizz!_

An arrow streaks across the face of Lady Luna, its flint head glinting in the moonlight. Without warning, it bursts into flames of green. The Pilot curses as he dodges the arcane missile, but another is already on its way. He barely has time to deflect it before rolling to his left to avoid a third deadly projectile.

_Whap!_

His heavy cloak swings out, deflecting yet another flaming arrow. The fire catches on, racing up the woven fabric. The Pilot tosses it away, revealing his sweat-stained tunic. He knows that the battle is growing rapidly one-sided. He is losing ground beneath the hail of arrow-fire. Eventually, he will tire and make a mistake. It will cost him his life and both him as his deathly enemy knows it.

So he switches tactics. Yelling, he charges head on, weaving left and right. For a moment, The Undead Archer is struck dumb with surprise. Never has it faced a foe this courageous. Its bow whips uselessly to the left then to the right, desperately trying to get a bead on its target and release another lethal arrow.

Too late. The Pilot has already closed up the distance between him and that bow-wielding monstrosity. Shouting triumphantly, he thrusts his blade into the Archer's ribcage and into its shoulder-blade.

_Crack._

A split raggedly scores itself into the bone's bleached surface, sending web-like cracks running across it as it fractures. The tongues of emerald fire streaming out of the skeleton's skull flares in fright as precious yellow-green mana leaks from the gash. The Pilot grunts, forcing his sword deeper into the bone and pinning his undead foe to the desert floor.

Frustrated by its helplessness, its fire roars, causing sweat to bead the forehead of the Pilot. He roars back, a sound mingled with rage, loathing and grief. It was a beast like this that slayed his beloved, a monster like this that slaughtered his daughter.

_Shuk._

Pain suddenly bolts through him, a weak gasp escaping from his lips. He stares into the grin of Death itself as the skeleton twists the arrow it has finally driven into his belly. The Pilot howls, hot agony streaking through him. Carefully, the Undead Archer raises a bony hand and pushes the Pilot off it. His flesh tears with an ugly sound and he screams.

Slumping backwards, the soft sand cushions his fall as he lands. The pain is dull now, the Pilot can barely feel it as it weeps blood. A strange numbness creeps from the puncture, seeping through his body and making him feel sleepy. Darkness rims the edges of his blurry vision.

The Archer's morbid smile turns to him as he slowly dies, alone in the desert. But its not the last thing he gazes upon. He looks beyonds that demonic face and into the sparkling stars set in the ebony sky.

But there is not a trace of sympathy from them. They are foreign stars, angels of apathy whose gaze is as unfeeling as their Lady. They do not care for him nor for anything of the world.

As his vision blackens, the flutter of Hope in him shrivels and dies.

He has failed.

**[A/N: What's up guys! I hoped you've enjoyed this mini-battle scene. If you're wondering why this chapter was published today instead of Friday, it's because my internet was down. The problem is fixed now so there shouldn't be any more problems now :) **

**Take Care!**

**- Scribe191]**


	4. Chapter 4

**[A/N: For this chapter, I would like to try an experiment on setting an atmosphere and a vibe :) It'll only take a few minutes to set up!**

**On top of every chapter page, there is a bar with a bunch of "A's on it, a square made of a bunch of lines and a circle that is half white and half black. **

**First, click on the "A" that doesn't have a "+' or "-" sign on it. That will allow you to change your font and the background of the text. Set the font to Helvetica. (This is the suggested font that you read my stories in.)**

**Second, click on the square made of a bunch of lines. The bar will then expand to accommodate the new options of "Full", "3/4" and "1/2". Click on the "3/4" option. **

**Then, click on the circle to change the viewing option to "negative", where the words will turn white and the background will turn black.  
**

**Lastly, search youtube using the phrase "sad depressing piano music". Click on the first video which has a heart on it as its clipart. Read the chapter while listening to the music. ****(You only have to listen up to 1:12.)**

**Let me know what you think either via PM or review!**

**- Scribe191]**

_A Minecraft Fan-fiction;_

**Idyll **

_By Scribe191_

_The desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose._

- Isaiah 35:1

Utter darkness. An endless void stretching into eternity. There is no light. There is no warmth. There is nothing but emptiness and your profound regrets as you plummet into a bottomless chasm to nowhere. It is here that you are broken.

The Pilot does not care. Failed in his quest he has, a promise he swore by Terra himself to keep. His heart wrenches with despair. His soul moans forlornly. His spirit is crushed, his will smashed. As his eyes look up, he remembers the words of his long-deceased wife:

"Everyone breaks differently," she said.

"Some break into bits and pieces, with no willpower left to live. Others shatter into razor-edge shards, ready to fight with a vengeance. "

And he remembers how she had stroked his chin on that day, two lovers on a sun-soaked field. Flowers, waving to and fro in the cool breeze. The sun setting brilliantly as the pair watched their daughter play in the grass.

A single tears leaks from his eye and slowly streams down his cheek.

The Pilot thinks to himself that there is a third kind of person: one that had hoped to take revenge, but had been ground to dust beneath the heel of Defeat. He is that person.

It had been foolish, it seemed, for him to think that he could have accomplished anything.

And at last, his aching, groaning heart, is unable to support his great burden: his heavy remorse, his intense guilts, his deepest sorrows. With a resounding C_rack!_, his back arches as his heart snaps.

It was here, in the dark limbo of Death, that his very being was broken.


	5. Chapter 5

_A Minecraft Fan-fiction;_

**Idyll **

_By Scribe191_

_The desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose._

- Isaiah 35:1

His limbo is at an end. The air rushing past the Pilot's ears screams, growing louder with each passing second. Something warns him that this pit might not have been as bottomless as it seemed before. Panicking, his survival instinct kicks in. His arms flail about and his legs jerk as he desperately tries to slow his fall.

However, there's a little voice in his head, cruelly whispering to him:

_Why are you fighting?_

_Why are you trying to stay alive? _

_Isn't life a wicked joke on all of us? _

_We will all be taken by Death. _

_What is the point?_

_Hope was always a lie._

And as he despairs in the darkness of Limbo, the Pilot wants to remember. He wants to remember his daughter, overflowing with new life, his wife with her twinkling eyes. He wants to smile just once more.

But he cannot.

And it seems he never will as the bottom runs up to embrace him.

**~ O ~**

His body spasms as it strikes… softness? His eyes flash open as his body comes back down with a muffled _thump_.

It seems that he has been tucked into a bed, a warm one at that. It is comforting to his aching heart, a familiar object at last different from his alien journey. He sits up, startled. A sudden realisation has struck him like a lightning bolt.

The bed is from home.

It couldn't be. His home had long since been razed and pillaged. But stranger things have happened. Could it be that the Pilot was in Heaven? A place of comfort and familiarity would surely welcome a bed such as this. His wounded heart revives slightly under this hope.

Without warning, he is hit by a wave of dizziness that throws his mind into chaos. He groans and the Pilot lays back down again, his hand unconsciously moving to his forehead. It is several minutes before the discomfort subsides.

Hunger. A growling sound fills the air and the Pilot remembers that he has not eaten since the previous morning. Looking to the left, he discovers a basket of beautiful red apples sitting on a wooden nightstand. Agonizingly, he reaches for those delicious fruits, only to find they are just out of his grasp. Stretching out his trembling arm, his fingers still barely brush the basket's rough surface. Withdrawing, his head tilts back in exhaustion. He is too weak.

A soft scraping sound disturbs his ears. He looks back towards the basket of apples and sees that they have moved slightly towards him. Confused, he frowns until he spots the slender hand that clutches the basket's handle.

The hand has the complexion of light cocoa, its texture smooth and supple. It leads to an arm, clothed in a long sleeve the colour of roses. The Pilot sits up to take a better look. His eyes grow large again as he is shocked for a second time.

It's her.

Those almond eyes, shining with intelligence. That saddle nose, uncannily pointed. Those smiling pink lips, dimples at their sides. It can't be. She is dead. But the Pilot can't resist as he reaches out to touch the face of his dearly beloved.

Only to have his world rocked. Uttering a small cry, he scrabbles backwards, trying to place as much distance between himself and that monster.

His beloved's eyes were never the colour of the sky.

That once happy face now frowns, with the eyes glinting with anger. The smile that once graced those lips has vanished to be replaced by a tremble. Her sunset coloured dress twirls as the impostor turns to exit the room, her hands going to her face. As the doors open silently to usher her out, the Pilot thought he could hear a sob before they shut with a resounding _boom_.

What is going on?


End file.
